A home and a life
by Tray D. Sheila
Summary: Life is what I feel, I do not have anymore. Why is she depressed? Is it because she's sick and a street-kid? Or because she feels her end is near?


**I do not own One Piece or the characters, beside my own OC.**

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 _Life is what I feel,  
I do not have anymore.  
No feelings for anyone.  
No love for someone.  
Not faith in many people.  
And my heart is gone._

She panted and let a hand go through her long, dirty and messed up hair. It had been so long since she had a place to call home, people that cared for her and she cared for that she could barely remember the feeling. Her red-orange eyes were flickering around, waiting for her followers to find her, as she rested in the ally. Today she had been caught in the act of stealing food and she cursed herself. She had lived so long on the streets, used to the dirt, to the cold, to the heat, to just everything the streets has to offer.

 _What should I do?  
Should I flee?  
Do I have to find it all over again?  
Or should I let it be?_

For a long time, she stood pressed against the wall in the ally, ready to fight or flee. She listened for footsteps, for yelling, for anything indicating that they had seen her run into the small ally, but after a while she was sure she had escaped them. Slowly she slid down and sat on the cold ground. It didn't bother her. She coughed. For a few weeks she had been coughing and she became sloppy. It was not good. She knew she was sick and it was getting worse, but she also knew she couldn't do anything about it. She was a street kid. Nobody cared.

After a while she peeked out from the ally. The people that had followed her was long gone. Without hesitating she left the ally and walked towards her 'home'. She coughed more and worse now. Suddenly she felt darkness take over her and she fell. She didn't feel the ground, her mind had already shut down.

He saw her small frame walking sluggish. For some time he had seen her in the streets, stealing food. He had tried to catch her, but she had always managed to get away. Now she looked worse than she had the past few weeks he had observed her and he knew she was really sick. He saw how she was falling and smoothly he caught her, before her fragile body hit the concrete. He lifted her up and brought her with him.

The doctor checked up on her and gave her some medicine. Because she was unconscious due to the high fever, he gave her it the drop. He told them she had pneumonia, but her body was strong, despite her small frame and being malnourished. If they would keep her warm and give her the medicine, she would be alright.

 _My life, your life.  
My heart, your heart.  
My love, your love.  
My feelings to others.  
Your feelings to others._

She had no idea where she was or how she got here. As she regained her consciousness, she felt she was lying in a soft bed. She also felt better and warm. Warm in a good way. Her eyes was still closed, but she knew she was somewhere strange. Everything smelt so new, so fresh and clean. And yet she didn't feel fear. Slowly she opened her eyes, having gotten used the the light. She stared at a white ceiling. Then she turned her head to her left, where she could see outside through a big window. It had started to snow. Light snowflakes danced in the light wind. Beneath the window were a desk and a chair.

Slowly she moved her head to her right. There was a closet, a drawer and a big mirror. She could see herself in the mirror. A small, fragile girl with long dark red hair. She looked clean. Someone had washed her and her hair, while she was out. On her cheeks she could see the freckles clearly, since her skin looked pale almost white as a ghost. Slowly and carefully she raised her upper body, feeling how tired she actually was. Across the bed was a door and the handle went down. She bit her lips, feeling trapped, as the door opened and a large man walked in.

 _I must do something.  
But what and how?  
These are the two questions,  
I need to find two answers to_

The man had long blond hair, his eyes were light yellow and he smiled friendly to her. She had seen him around 'her district' a few times. She met his eyes with slight fear, yet she sat up, ignoring the pain in her body for now.

"I'm glad to see you awake. You've been out for six days," he said.

She swallowed. Had it really been that bad? Well, there was nothing she could have done against it. Somehow she had been saved. She had come to peace with her dying, but it seemed her time hadn't come just yet. This man had saved her, of that she was sure, though he hadn't said anything. He moved into the room, took the chair and sat next to her bed.

"I'm Edward Newgate, owner of this Orphanage. I've been watching for some weeks, wanting to bring you here. As you collapsed on the street, I brought you here and let a doctor take care of you. He says you'll be fine, though weakened for some time," he spoke to her.

"Orphanage?" she asked, her voice rough and just speaking made her cough.

He held a glass of water in front of her and she accepted it, drank it slowly. It was fresh and clean, something she hadn't tasted in many years.

"Thanks," she muttered, her voice now softer.

"No problem. From now on you'll live here. However, as soon as you''re completely back on your feet, I expect that you'll help around here," he said.

"Why?"

He chuckled. "You are not the only orphan here."

"No why do you have an orphanage and why wanting me to stay?" she asked.

His eyes softened. "All I dream of is a big family, but my wife died in childbirth. I knew I couldn't love another person, yet I wanted more children than just my son. So after many years of hard work, I opened this orphanage. Some kids here had come as infants, left on my doorstep, others I have brought here from the streets. I want to give you a chance to live and get a good live," he said.

She looked at him, her red-orange eyes wondering. "Freja. That's my name and I'm 11 years old. My parents died 6 years ago and I've been alone for all that time," she said.

"Now you aren't alone anymore Freja. You may call me Oyaji if you want. The other orphans are looking forward to meet you," he smiled.

"So this will be my home?" she asked hesitating.

"If you accept it. When you're healed, I won't force you to stay, though I'm sure the others would be sad if you left," he said.

"Will you be sad?"

"I will, but I can't and won't force you to stay. It's completely your decision," he said.

She closed her eyes and coughed again. Her body was still sick. Suddenly her stomach growled, reminding her that she was hungry and that she could smell something wonderful cooking. She heard a chuckled and opened her eyes again, seeing Edward laugh.

"I'll bring you some soup. Just take it easy. There's a bathroom just across this room," he said.

Then he rose and went to the door. He stopped and looked back to her.

"I would be happy if you would stay and be my daughter," he said, before he left.

Freja sunk down and cuddled under the warm blanket. Daughter. He had said he would be happy if she would stay and be his daughter. The thought felt nice. Maybe she should stay. It did feel nice as he had said those words. She smiled softly and closed her eyes. Could she really have a home, a life, love, faith and feelings again? She wanted it so badly. So maybe she should see if she could find it here.

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 **The poem is one my sister DianasLilleMus once wrote. She gave me permission to use it in a FF. Please let me know what you think of it (she would be happy to know it).**

 **I'm not sure whether to write more chapters for this one or not. I will let it be complete for now. If my muse wants (or I get enough time) I might make this to a multiply chapter story.**


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